Waiting to Breathe
by Razberri
Summary: She didn't want to be in Middle Earth. She didn't even know how she got there. Yet here she was, an Edain, lonely, working in Imladris, waiting to go back home, and all the while unwittingly catching Glorfindel's eye. Rated M for future adult scenes.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Zoe Parker was standing in the pouring rain, miserable, drenched to the bone, and freezing, when she finally realized that she hated Middle Earth. And then she wondered why the heck she'd ever thought it would be a wonderful place to visit. That was a revelation she never imagined she would have.

Before this moment, this revelation, Zoe had obsessed over the timelines, the maps, the characters, the history. She had memorized the films line for line. She had read the books so many times, she probably could have given a lengthy, detailed monologue of the entire trilogy and then some. Her grades in high school declined as she poured over fan fictions and discussion boards. She spent an entire week without sleep just so she could finish the Silmarillion for the hundredth time. Tolkien's world had overtaken her own.

And she had dreamed of it all her life. Seeing Middle Earth. She wanted to experience what she saw in the movies. The ethereal wonder of Lothlórien, the majesty of Minis Tirith, the Viking-esque quality of Edoras. She wanted to travel with the Fellowship, see the Mines of Moria, look into Galadriel's mirror. She wanted to join Aragorn and Legolas and Éomer at the last stand against Mordor. She wanted to know the desperation of Frodo and Sam as they struggled up the craggy sides of the Mountain of Fire.

Zoe had imagined meeting Merry and Pippin, thinking of all the great fun they might have together playing pranks on unsuspecting elves in Rivendell. She had imagined riding with the wind in her face across the plains of Rohan with Éowyn. She had imagined walking through Fangorn and meeting Treebeard. She had dreamed of it all her life.

They say some dreams can come true. But she had never imagined it would turn out like this.

Zoe was barely twenty-two, fresh out of university with a bachelor's in English, and with no idea what to do with it. Her friends said she should be a teacher, though she didn't think she'd do well. She wanted to write, but everyone knows the only people who write for a living are Stephanie Meyer and Stephen King. One can't even write, and the other got lucky. Zoe never was a lucky person.

She also wanted to travel. She'd been out of the country three or four times for mission trips with her church, but she wanted to travel alone and to some far away land. Of course Middle Earth came to her mind immediately. She'd never said out loud that she genuinely believed it was real. She was sure a lot of other people believed that too, but no one ever admitted it when she was around. By the year 2030, it was considered taboo to express your imagination out loud. Zoe thought that was childish, but it was a reality. During her time in college, she took a class required for graduation called "Social Conformation and Its Effects on the Mind." Basically, everyday she sat in class to have a teacher tell her to take her imagination and shove it. Zoe was sure twenty years ago no one would have imagined that's what they'd be teaching kids in school.

Which brings the author to her next point.

Love.

It's something Zoe's grandparents used to talk about all the time before they passed away a few months before she finished high school. It was what everybody used to want in the 60's and 70's. It was something that was always hard to find. And by 2010, according to Zoe's eldest cousin, it was impossible to fall into anymore. Society had disregarded romantic love and dating and replaced it with "hooking up." Relationships were never "closed" because you couldn't get out of those, and if your partner wasn't very good in bed you could just find somebody else who was. People in 2030 equated romantic love with old fashioned stuff like landline telephones and analog television. "Love is dead" suddenly contained more truth than Zoe wished it did.

Two years ago, Zoe met the boy of her dreams. He was taller than her (always a requirement), wasn't a gym monkey, and completely shared her love for all things Tolkien.

His name was Jack and he asked Zoe out on a casual lunch date after class. They had pizza at her favorite bistro and shared a milkshake, which she thought was the cutest idea. They chatted about school and their families and what they wanted to accomplish within the next year. And then he asked her if she wanted to hook up with him that night. At first she thought he meant "go out," as in to a club, which she didn't have a problem with since she didn't enjoy going out alone. He then rephrased his question by asking if Zoe wanted to come over to his place that night and "get cozy."

Zoe blinked. Several times. She didn't say anything for a minute at least. She was one of the few people in her school who still didn't sleep around and hook up with the next hotty down the dorm hallway. After a moment, she tried to explain that she wanted to go out on a few more dates to get to know him better. He said he already knew me and that the more dates people went out on with each other, the more they'd get tired of each other. Zoe told him she wasn't one to sleep around, to which he shrugged and said that dating was old fashioned. So she left it at that, her worst fear confirmed that there wasn't a single person left out there who still had some decent morals to live by. Zoe hightailed it out of that bistro, and hasn't spoken to Jack since.

Several months later, you could say Zoe was at least a little unhappy. To keep herself from going off the deep end, she decided to return to a place that had claimed her heart long before Middle Earth had taken hold of it: the local equestrian center where she had ridden her first pony when she was nine. Not much had changed there, and she was glad of it. She renewed her relationship with the facility's owners, and later managed to get a job as assistant secretary. Due to her glorious bachelor's degree in English, they asked her to write up every business memo, lease form, and how-to manual that they and their little business schemes were constantly requiring. As part of her salary, she was given a small offsite apartment and permission to ride farm-owned horses. It was a simple, quiet life, but she enjoyed it while it lasted.

Because it only lasted a year and a half. What happened after that was akin to something she had dreamed of all her life.

Well, almost.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

As mentioned in the previous chapter, Zoe had read her fair share of Lord of the Rings fan fiction. Any true Tolkien devotee does this at least once in their lifetime, and if one of those people says they haven't, they are either lying or they aren't really a true Tolkien fanatic.

In the world of Lord of the Rings fan fiction, there is the wonderful, there is the iffy, and then there is the atrocious. In Zoe's humble opinion (which she almost always kept to herself), a Rings fan fiction could only be properly labeled "atrocious" if it fulfilled one or more of the following qualifications:

1) It is slash.

2) It contains a Mary Sue.

3) It contains witches.

4) It contains dragons, unicorns, or other fantasy creatures that do not appear in Tolkien canon.

5) It contains a Mary Sue who happens to be a witch with a pet dragon/unicorn/other fantasy creature, and falls in love with or *cough*seduces*cough* Legolas Thranduilion. (May God have mercy on his poor Elvish soul.)

And if it doesn't fit into any of those, there is always this:

6) It contains a character who happens to be a girl from our world who somehow accidentally finds herself in Middle Earth one way or another.

With exception for numbers 2 and 6, none of those can be written well, because they cross the boundary between what is acceptable in AU Tolkien fic, and what is not. But Zoe had realized that the term Mary Sue had begun to take on a bloated meaning, causing many writers to stop creating wonderful original characters out of fear that their character would be labeled a Mary Sue just because there is actually something interesting about said character. In Lord of the Ring fan fiction today, a Mary Sue is pretty much any girl who doesn't belong in Middle Earth, but ends up there anyway.

So to cut to the chase, Zoe was a Mary Sue.

She didn't ask for it. She didn't understand how it happened. And contrary to what you readers might think, she wasn't enjoying it either. It was all very odd. Her suspicions were still on the sun and all its solar storms, that it somehow opened up a space-time portal that merged with her imagination, since her head was always in the clouds. But she couldn't explain it. All she knew was that she'd gone from walking to her car in the middle of the empty parking lot at the equestrian center, to standing in the pouring rain in the middle of a forest, in the middle of, well, nowhere.

Her first instinct upon feeling the freezing water that quickly soaked through her t-shirt was to find shelter. She looked around frantically for a cave or something that could at least partially shield her from the torrential downpour, but all she saw were trees and shadows. The light was fading fast, so she figured it had to be at least seven o'clock. (It was September.) There was nothing else she could do except start walking until she found _something_. She needed to keep her blood flowing in order to avoid catching hypothermia, that much she knew. Thankfully, she hadn't ended up in a random forest in the middle of January. If she had, she'd never have survived. Instead, she ended up in a random forest in the middle of a rainy September night. Certainly not as bad, right?

She managed to find a rocky overhang in the side of a hill, which she huddled under for what felt like an eternity. She thought it would have been nice if whatever had teleported her to the middle of nowhere had been courteous enough to leave her iPhone in her hand so she could call 911 and use the GPS to help them find her. But everything she'd been holding while walking to her car, including her keys, phone, bag, and a half-empty water bottle, was gone. Which meant her wallet was missing too. She cursed the weather and the forest, and her situation in general, not knowing the first thing to think. Folded up in the mud under the craggy overhang, she tried to fall asleep in hopes that she would wake up in her bed at home to find it had all just been a crazy dream.

She didn't remember if she fell asleep or not. If she did, it passed so quickly it was like night had been skipped altogether. The rain had stopped. She peeled herself out of the mud and stretched her sore limbs. Cold rain, mud, and jeans don't go well together at all. She didn't even stop to think about what she might look like. She reached up to feel her hair and was met with bits of mud. She undid her pony tail and tried to shake the light brown strands out, a clump of mud hitting the ground with a "glop." But the hair suddenly didn't matter as her stomach growled, and she realized she didn't have a clue how she was going to survive out here on her own. She really needed her cell phone back. A shiver racked her body, and she also realized her clothes were still soaked from laying in the mud all night, so she decided to find a sunny clearing where she could dry off to keep from getting sick. She was having a lot of concerning realizations by now.

After trudging through mud that sometimes got knee deep, Zoe found the sunny spot she was looking for. It was as if a chorus of heavenly angels suddenly broke into song. She leaned back against an old fallen tree trunk and stared up at the sky. It was the most remarkable shade of blue she had ever seen. Fluffy white clouds soared on a brisk wind that thankfully couldn't reach her beneath the thick shade of the surrounding forest. Her stomach growled again and she groaned.

Then she heard voices, gruff, accented, and ornery. She turned in the direction they were coming from, but the forest was too thick to see too far. Underbrush and fallen branches cracked beneath several pairs of feet. Perhaps these people could help her, she thought. She called out to them, waving her hands in the air. It didn't help that she didn't have a bright piece of clothing that would make her stand out among the trees, but that didn't seem to faze the source of the voices. The rustling paused and she heard them talking amongst themselves. There had to be at least three people, but she still couldn't see them. She called out again.

"Hey! Over here! Help me!"

They drew nearer, the crunching of underbrush and sloshing of mud becoming more distinct. Zoe could see them through the trees now. Four figures, two of them hunched, and they looked as if they had spent the night outdoors as well. As they pushed through the trees, her heart sunk to my stomach. These people weren't going to help her. They weren't even human. If orcs looked anything like the disgusting goblins in Peter Jackson's film trilogy, then these were it. The one who seemed to be the leader of the party brandished a roughly hewn sword.

"What do we 'ave 'ere, boys?" he said, snarling a yellow grin. She should have turned and run away as fast as she could, but she was too busy considering the possibility that these were in fact Orcs. They were hideous to be sure, but the idea of it was too much and she wasn't thinking about her safety at the moment.

"Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, eh?" the second one said. He was the shortest of the bunch and was missing one eye.

"No," the third replied. "There's not enough meat on 'er."

They closed in quickly, so quickly that Zoe wasn't able to escape. She tripped over a log, falling backwards with an "Oof!" They laughed and surrounded her. She tried to kick at them as they grabbed her wrists with grimy hands, but there were four of them and one of her. They held her legs down easily while the other two tied her hands. She screamed for help from anybody who might be nearby, but was quickly gagged with a thick leather strap through her mouth. She thrashed at them still, until something hit her in the forehead with brutal strength. Then everything went black.

Her bad dream had become an absolute nightmare.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The leather in Zoe's mouth tasted like blood. That was the first thing she noticed when she came to.

She was tied uncomfortably close to the trunk of a tree, sitting on the ground by the banks of a river. She must have been out for several hours as the sun was high overhead now. Her captors were nowhere to be seen, and she hoped it would stay that way. She pulled desperately at the bonds around her wrists, but the straps dug into her skin and she winced. That wasn't going to work. She craned her neck to see just how she was stuck to this tree. They had tied the cords around her wrist and onto another rope that was strung once around the wide tree trunk. If she could get her foot under the rope, just maybe she could loosen it.

She turned to the left and swung her right foot awkwardly around me and at the tree trunk, pulling on her bonds and causing her wrists to scream. They were probably bleeding now, but she didn't have the stomach to look. She managed to get the toe of her boot under the rope and yanked it backwards. It didn't budge. Something rustled in the forest undergrowth a little ways down the bank and she glanced over her shoulder nervously. They'd better not find me trying to escape, she thought.

Too late. Three of them emerged from the forest, running as fast as their stocky legs could carry them. They didn't even glance at Zoe, and she just stared as they hurried past and down the riverbank. They disappeared into a thicket on her other side and that was the last she saw of them. As soon as they disappeared, the fourth came behind them, limping, dragging one foot sideways and forming a track through the sand. She waited for him to pass by, her boot still stuck between the rope and the tree. He looked over at her suddenly and she frantically pulled her foot free, ready to kick and thrash like the ninja Zoe wished she was at the moment.

"Won't let them bloody elves 'ave you," he growled. "Not if I 'ave any say."

He pulled a jagged, black knife from his belt and advanced on her. She tugged futilely at her bonds, but they didn't budge. She wasn't going anywhere. Except to my grave, she thought grimly. The tall orc pressed himself up against her, so close that she could smell his breath. It reeked of dried blood and rotting flesh. His black eyes peered at her, then he settled his knife across her jugular. Zoe shut her eyes and prepared to meet her maker.

Suddenly there was a whoosh, and then a sickening thud followed by a sharp inhalation. As the pressure of the knife lifted off her neck, Zoe cracked open her eyes to see her would-be murderer laying on the ground with an arrow protruding from his skull. Her eyes darted around for any sign of her savior, but there was nothing. Then from the woods across the river, two horses appeared, both riders brandishing long bows.

"Hey!" Zoe yelled. "Hey!"

The riders spurred their mounts onward and the horses calmly obeyed, splashing in and out of the water and coming over onto Zoe's side of the creek. She could see them a little more clearly now, and she thought she might have been seeing double were it not for the horses' being different colors. Both riders had identical faces and the same long, black hair. A thought crossed her mind, but she knew the idea was ridiculous. Yet her dreams had never been this detailed before.

They dismounted and came towards her, their horses amazingly staying where they had been left.

"Help me?" she whimpered pitifully.

The two men muttered to each other in a strange language that flowed easily off of their tongues. Then they pulled small knives out of nowhere and deftly sliced the ropes that held her. One wrapped a strong arm around her back as her legs gave way. She didn't know how long she'd gone without anything to eat or drink. It must have been at least a day, and she felt pathetic. And compared to the ethereal beauty of these two identical men, she knew she must have looked pathetic too.

They didn't say anything as they guided Zoe towards one of their horses, and they helped her climb on. The dapple gray must have been almost 18 hands high and she struggled to reach the stirrup with her foot. At least she could ride at all. The thought crossed her mind of what would have happened subsequently had she not been a strong rider. She'd probably be laying in the mud again.

But she wasn't. She was barely alive, riding the long strides of a powerful stallion through the woods, with a beautiful man sitting behind her at the reins. The next thing she remembered was rounding a turn in the mountain path and seeing an otherworldly image that looked like it had come straight out of a particular movie about a ring. Then the wondrous sight faded into gray.

* * *

When Zoe woke up, she found herself laying not in the mud or in the woods, or outside at all, but instead in a soft bed, draped with clean, white linen sheets. Her dirty clothing had been removed, but at the moment she didn't feel like looking around the room for it because she was too busy checking out her new clothes. She was wearing a simple, cream-colored shift, made of the softest material she had ever laid hands on. Then she felt her hair, because that was the second thing she realized. It was soft and clean and tied loosely back at her neck. Then she felt her face and discovered that it was smooth and grit free. She didn't feel dirty at all. It was as if she had fallen asleep and walked through a car wash. The thought made her chuckle out loud.

The next second, a young woman rushed into the room. She looked about Zoe's age and had piercing gray eyes and long, blue-black hair that made Zoe more than a little jealous. She wore a beautiful flowing gown of silver cloth that made no noise when she began to move about the room busily. What she was doing, Zoe had no idea. Then she came over to the bedside and settled into a chair, folding her hands in her lap.

"How are you feeling, miss?" she asked. Zoe blinked at the fact that she could understand what the woman saying, even though the language was different.

"I'm good, I think," Zoe croaked. Her throat was so dry.

The woman nodded. "Can I get you anything at all?"

Zoe bit her lip. Why was she being treated like this? "Maybe some water? But I don't need—" Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn't eaten in who knows how long now. "I'm starving," she said quietly.

The woman rose and quickly disappeared out the door without another word. Zoe sighed and gazed about the room for a moment. The ceiling and walls were immaculately clean and covered in beautiful carvings and designs. The floor was tiled intricately. It must have taken weeks to lay that tile so perfectly, she thought. In two of the room's walls were wide windows that were open to the world outside, and long, translucent curtains fluttered on each side of them in the cool breeze. Zoe wondered suddenly just where on earth she was.

The woman returned then, bearing a silver tray that carried a matching goblet and a bowl full of something that smelled amazing. She placed the tray on the nightstand nearby and then helped Zoe sit up. Although she was still tired, Zoe wasn't injured but for some bruises and scratches in multiple places. She sat up with no problem and then attacked the bowl of soup that was placed in front of her. She didn't care what was in it because it was warm and edible, and it gave her strength the moment it slid down her throat.

The woman with jet-black hair watched Zoe patiently as she finished the meal provided, and Zoe graciously thanked her.

"But you really didn't have to. I was perfectly able to get up and get something myself."

"The Lords Elladan and Elrohir insisted that you be taken care of, and it is one of my duties here to care for guests who are in need of rest," was the placid reply.

Zoe stared at her for a moment. Elladan and Elrohir were the sons of Elrond of Rivendell. Which could only mean one thing... "Where is here?"

"Why, you are in the House of Elrond, Imladris."

Zoe swallowed the knot that formed in her throat. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to cry out for joy or scream in absolute terror. "Im—Imladris?" she repeated.

"Yes, Rivendell. You have probably never heard of it. It is a secret place, known only to the elves and their closest friends."

Zoe decided to play dumb. It would be better for her not to reveal that she did in fact know of Rivendell. She knew what could happen to girls who came to Rivendell and revealed all. They went with the Fellowship because they had "speshul knowledge," and changed everything. And since she wasn't in a fan fiction, she wasn't going to fall in love with Legolas, or save Frodo's life when Aragorn was completely able to. If she went with the Fellowship, she knew she would get eaten by wolves during her first few weeks with the Fellowship. She was in a real Middle Earth, with real dangers. She didn't want to put herself into worse situations than she already had. It had been sheer luck that Elladan and Elrohir had found her at all.

"May I know your name, miss?"

Zoe glanced back at the woman, whose light eyes were glittering in the sunlight that was beginning to stream through the windows. It must have been late afternoon by then.

Zoe told her.

The woman paused, her face momentarily going blank. "Zoe?" The name sounded strange on her foreign tongue. "What an . . . interesting name," she said slowly.

Zoe smiled. "It means 'Life' where I come from," she offered to try and ease the situation. It seemed to work.

"It is fitting for you. I am Faelwen. And since you are now awake enough to converse, you must get out of bed and I will help you change into more suitable clothes. Lord Elrond wishes to meet you."

Zoe swallowed, pushed the sheets off, and swung her legs around to the side of the bed. Faelwen helped her to her feet and ten minutes later, Zoe was dressed like any other elf of Rivendell, minus of course the pointy ears, beautiful long hair, stunning silver eyes, and glowing perfect complexion. She was in Middle Earth now, a land of elves, hobbits, and orcs, but she wasn't at all happy about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Zoe followed Faelwen through a confusing series of twisting, indoor passages, mile-high bridges, and beautiful garden paths. Rivendell had exceeded her expectations of elven beauty, and what had been shown on film in Jackson's trilogy was crap compared to the real thing. Zoe had never beheld such beauty in her life.

And then they came to Lord Elrond's library. Faelwen opened the door and motioned for Zoe to go inside without her. She hesitated until she saw the annoyed glint in the elleth's silver eyes and quickly brushed passed her. Once she was inside, Zoe heard the door shut and found herself standing in the center of the room alone. Looking around, she saw that she was surrounded by thousands of books, all arranged on shelves and in niches that had been carved into the walls so well that they blended with the scenery. The room had been creatively designed, but Zoe figured this sort of architecture was common place with the elves. Why should Lord Elrond's library be any exception?

"Do you find Imladris easy on the eye?"

Zoe jumped when she heard the voice, and turned to find the source. She found herself gazing on an elf lord of great stature and build, dressed in draping silk robes. A curtain of black hair fell around his shoulders and when his stern silver gaze met Zoe's, she wanted to sink into the floor.

"I—It—It's . . ." she couldn't make herself talk, she was so nervous all of a sudden. She licked her lips, wringing her fingers, and decided to try again. "Imladris is beautiful," she managed with a shaky voice.

The elf lord gave an easy smile. "Good, I am glad you find it to your liking. I am Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell."

Practically bouncing on her toes, Zoe bit her tongue to keep from shouting "I know!"

"I hope Faelwen was able to help you feel comfortable. I imagine you have never met an elf before, judging by the way you reacted to my sons."

"N—No sir, I have not," she replied, still shakily.

"Please, there is no need for that." He offered her a hand. "Come with me. I wish to know where you came from."

She swallowed and took his hand. Warmth radiated from it and spread up her arm, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. They went through the library and out into a private corridor that opened onto a veranda. There they were offered a spectacular view of the valley and the mountains that sheltered it.

"Faelwen told me she believes you are not from Middle Earth, Zoe. How is that possible?"

The forthrightness behind his question caught her off guard and she frantically tried to come up with some sort of explanation, even though she hadn't the slightest idea either. He must have seen the jitters in her brown eyes.

"Is it possible that you had no control over what happened?"

She shrugged. "One minute I was walking to my car in a quiet parking lot at night, and the next I was standing in the middle of the woods in the pouring rain. I don't know what happened."

"Curious," was his reply, although Zoe knew he had a lot more to say than that. "My sons tell me you were captured by orcs and if you had not called out to them, they never would have found you."

She winced at how pathetic he made the situation sound, but she knew he was right. "That about covers it," she said, trying to smile.

Elrond nodded. "Very well. You will remain in Rivendell until we can decipher how you came to Middle Earth from your world. And then we will send you home."

She bit her lip. Who knew how long she could be stuck here? Middle Earth was a dangerous place, as she had already discovered.

"Um . . . if you don't mind," Zoe hated how awkward she sounded, "could you tell me what year this is?"

"Of course. It is the year thirty eighteen of the Third Age, and today is the twenty-eighth of September."

Zoe sighed deeply. Her worst fear was confirmed. Now, she was determined to stay out of the way of everybody, especially when October twenty-fifth rolled around. Elrond's council meeting was the last place she needed to be, and she wasn't about to become more of a Mary Sue than she already was.

* * *

Blending in with the elves of Rivendell was easier than Zoe had thought. Faelwen provided her with simple elvish clothing and attempted to teach her how to walk with grace. After four days, when the elleth had tired of that, she decided to interrogate Zoe on what she was good at, so that Zoe could "make yourself useful," as Faelwen put it. Zoe gladly explained that anything that had anything to do with horses was her speciality, at which point the elleth turned up her nose. Zoe convinced her that she was no good in the kitchen or garden, which she really wasn't anyway since everyone knows they don't have microwaves in Middle Earth.

What followed was Faelwen's reluctantly presented tour of the stables of Rivendell. Zoe followed her eagerly as she walked down the very center of the barn aisle. (Zoe assumed it was to keep a safe distance from curious equines that poked their heads out of their stalls. Faelwen didn't seem to be into horses much.) She pointed out several horses of importance, some that Zoe recognized. There was Lady Arwen's sweet-natured dark gray, and the twin's horses she recognized immediately and greeted them with gentle strokes down their noses.

The last horse she recognized, as pointed out by Faelwen, was Asfaloth. He was a majestic, snow-white stallion, just as Tolkien had described him. Zoe knew that the only person the stallion would allow to ride him was his owner, Glorfindel, a Balrog slayer of old and now re-embodied and returned to Middle Earth as a friend and advisor to Lord Elrond. Zoe gazed at the steed from a safe distance, although she knew there would be no harm in touching him. He was just so ethereal to look at that she couldn't bring herself to approach him comfortably, or maybe it was because she had been in Rivendell for only four days and had barely become acclimated to living with the elves.

After the Faelwen's brief tour, she introduced Zoe to the head horseman. He agreed to "hire" Zoe to work with and care for the horses, and in return he would request that Lord Elrond himself provide her with accommodations. She was excited about the possibilities but nervous at the same time that she'd never see her own home again. She wondered if anyone was missing her already. The owners of the equestrian center usually called her once a week to see if she needed anything for the apartment or if she wanted to take a day off (they had plenty of workers). Zoe almost always declined their offers since she didn't know what she would do with herself if she had as much free time as they said they could give her. If they had called her apartment in the past few days, they would leave a message and call back the next day. At the rate her new life was coming into being in Middle Earth, they'd probably report her disappearance as a kidnapping. Zoe regretted that she couldn't at least tell them she was alright.

In the back of her mind, she had a feeling she'd be getting home sooner rather than later, but meanwhile she would work in the stables of Rivendell for food and board. It seemed like a swell deal.

The only thing she didn't know now was _how_ she would be getting home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

With each passing day, Zoe grew more and more nervous as the twenty-fifth of October drew steadily nearer. She wanted to go home more than ever now. On the night of October fifth, she dreamt she had fallen into a whirlpool. The swirling water dragged her down until she hit the not-so-mysterious depths of the river: the formation of the Fellowship of the Ring. The part of the dream that made her jolt up in bed was when she discovered that she was the tenth member of the Fellowship. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she shakily pulled herself out of bed. She walked to the small balcony that overlooked the valley and the rushing river with its white rapids far below. "I'd give anything to go back home," she told herself. "I'd give _everything_."

A cold breeze rustled the trees overhead and she pulled her arms around her chest in a feeble attempt to stay warm. If October nights were this chilly in Middle Earth, she didn't want to think about January nights. Living in muggy Florida had its perks, she supposed.

The night air sent goosebumps up her arms, so she retreated back into the warmth of her chambers and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up over her head. She lay there on her back for what felt like hours and hours, but sleep didn't seem interested in paying her body a visit for the rest of the night. She peered over the covers towards the balcony again, and saw that the sky had grown a shade lighter. Frustrated with her random bout of insomnia, she climbed out of bed again and pulled on her work boots. Then around her shoulders she wrapped the cloak that Faelwen had personally provided her with when she'd complained of the "freezing weather" a few days past.

She left her chambers and walked quietly down the stone-paved path towards the stables. Imladris had not yet woken from its elven slumber, although she knew elves didn't sleep. They "rested," with their eyes open, and she was glad she'd never witnessed it because she was sure it would creep her out and give her new nightmares.

Horses, however, did sleep, so she quietly slipped into the side door and planted herself in a pile of hay, looking down the row of stalls at the nodding horse heads. It was actually an amusing sight, seeing mighty stallions like Asfaloth with their usually upright and tense ears lolling to the side. She pushed herself from the hay and dug into a bucket of homemade treats which she'd made herself, then went over to Asfaloth's stall. She gently rubbed his nose and he snorted, his ears perking immediately. Then he smelled the treats that were crumbled in her other hand and leaned against his stall door, kicking it impatiently with a hoof. Zoe groaned and reached down to pat his neck. The noise was definitely going to wake up the whole barn, and most of Rivendell too.

Zoe lifted the handful of treats to his muzzle and giggled softly as the mighty stallion lipped the crumbles from my palm, tickling her with his whiskers. It was the cutest thing she'd seen in a long time. When her hand was empty, Asfaloth snuffled, and nudged her fingers for more.

"Nope, no more, you silly beast."

He snorted, blowing horse snot all over her arm.

"Gross. You are acting absolutely ridiculous for being such an egotistical stallion."

He seemed to like to listen to her talk. His ears drooped again, and Zoe moved her hand from rubbing his neck to scratching behind his ears and down his cheek. He dipped his head so she could reach further up his crest, and she combed her fingers through his silver mane, noticing how lightweight the hair looked but how heavy it really was. It fell between her fingers like raw silk. She ran her other hand down his sleek neck, feeling the muscles ripple as Asfaloth arched his neck suddenly. He whickered at something behind her, and Zoe glanced over her shoulder at the figure.

Then in realization, she whirled completely around, lowering her hands from Asfaloth's neck and intertwining them nervously in front of her. There stood a tall, very powerfully-built Elf, with long, golden hair that glimmered in the pale light of the stable. Actually, Zoe thought his whole body might have been faintly glowing, but she wasn't about to ask him. He was gazing down at her with an indiscernible expression, so Zoe's first instinct was to start talking.

"I'm sorry. Is this your horse? I couldn't sleep so I came out here, since I work here you see, and he was so cute and half-asleep with his ears bobbing around, and I just couldn't help but give him a few treats. He seemed to love it, so I wasn't thinking and—"

The elf raised a hand and Zoe shut her mouth.

"Peace. I did not mean to startle you."

His rich tenor was like music to her ears.

"Yes, Asfaloth is my horse," he continued, and came around Zoe to stand next to his stallion's head. "He is not often kind to anyone other than me, but he has his favorites. It seems he has taken a liking to you."

Zoe was too busy staring at the elf that she didn't hear the rest of what he said.

"You're Glorfindel!" she blurted, then immediately her face grew hot and red as a tomato.

A smile played at his lips. "Indeed, my name is Glorfindel, and I am a friend of Lord Elrond."

She resisted the urge to say, "Damn!" and instead turned her attention back to Asfaloth, which was a very hard thing to do.

"You probably already figured it out, but I _love_ your horse," she said quietly, still feeling pretty embarrassed from her outburst.

"He is a fine stallion. I will admit that I raised him myself, although the final result could have turned out a little friendlier."

She wasn't sure where he was going with that. "He seems pretty friendly to me."

"Indeed," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in an amused expression. "Shall we wonder why?"

Zoe sucked in a breath as suddenly she felt a soft warmth grip her hand. Strong fingers easily opened her clenched digits to reveal a lump of molasses, apple, and grain all mashed together.

"You make friends easily I see." His silver eyes glittered as though he was silently laughing at her, despite the indiscernible expression on his face.

She smiled shyly back, suddenly feeling very ill at ease. She pulled her hand from his grasp, trying to ignore the tingling that followed. It was as though she'd been touched by an angel.

When the thought occurred to her later, she snorted at her own infatuation and brushed the thoughts of him from her head.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Glorfindel entered Elrond's study with a fascinated expression on his face, something the Balrog slayer had not shown in a thousand years. Elrond knew that something was up and beckoned his friend to sit.

"'Tis a curious thing, the heart," said Glorfindel wistfully, settling himself in a mahogany arm chair.

"What lightens your spirits today, friend?"

Glorfindel crossed his legs and leaned forward to rest an arm on Elrond's desk. "The girl who works in the stable. She possesses a surprisingly amiable countenance. I only met her this morning."

Lord Elrond raised a dark eyebrow at his friend. "Has a daughter of the Edain caught your eye, Glorfindel?"

He shrugged. "Asfaloth seemed to like her. Do you know her name?"

"She calls herself Zoe. Faelwen told me she said it means "life" in her world."

The corner of Glorfindel's mouth rose. It fit her well, he thought. "Invite Zoe to dine with us tonight."

"But we do not know how she came here," Elrond said, intertwining his fingers. "We know nothing about her at all."

Glorfindel's smile grew. "I will change that."

* * *

Glorfindel's gaze landed on Zoe as soon as she entered the Hall of Fire. He smiled to himself as he realized how nicely she'd cleaned up from this morning. Her hair was washed and braided, and she wore a fine dress fit for Lady Arwen herself. If he knew Faelwen well enough, the finicky elleth had been sure to give Zoe the best she could. But her luxurious clothing and fine braids could not mask the nervousness in her expression.

He watched Zoe as she slowly sat down in the seat offered her by Elrond. When the meal was served, her countenance changed from one of insecurity to wonder. He watched fascinated as she relished her meal slowly, satisfaction clearing her gaze, though she kept her eyes downcast for the most part. But every now and again between bites, she would glance up. Her brown eyes would study an elf in front of her or down the table. She was fascinated by his kind, as though this was the first time she'd laid eyes on them. He knew it wasn't. She'd arrived a little over a week ago, and had encountered several of Rivendell's notable residents in one way or another. Maybe she was trying to behave like them, to improve her mannerisms. Or perhaps she was only nervous. Whatever it was, he knew she was enthralled. Any Edain would be. But this one... this one was different.

He lowered his gaze briefly when she looked at him. He didn't want to be caught staring yet. But that was when he realized he _had_ been staring at her. He, a great Elf-lord of Rivendell, captured by the relative plainness of a strange human girl? The thought seemed ridiculous to him, until he looked at Zoe again and decided it wasn't so preposterous. By Eldar standards, she was very plain. But for the Edain, she could be considered moderately beautiful with the right amount of theatrics.

And Glorfindel knew how easily he tired of the tricks of ellith. He remembered half a millennium ago when he had casually asked Lord Elrond to organize a matchmaking contest for him. Ellith had poured into Rivendell from all corners of the western lands, from Lothlorien, even Mirkwood, seeking out his hand. He'd met a few charming girls, but many were bored with their lives living as princesses in their fathers' homes. Their faces had blended together in his head, and none of them had truly struck his fancy. There had been Noldor with glistening black hair, Sindar with golden locks as his own, and even a rare red head of Nerdanel's kin (who he'd found the least interesting to his disappointment), but they were all still the same: stunningly beautiful, marvelously talented in the female arts, and completely obsessed with him. They knew who he was, where his power lay, that he was one of the Vanyar, that he had slain a Balrog, that the Valar had returned him to life. They wanted him for his prestige, his wealth, his captivating features. He knew all of this, and he turned all of them down.

Now here he was, staring at a human girl of barely twenty-three years, with plain brown hair, slender features, and shining dark eyes. And here she was, a stranger to his world, alone in a sea of elves, without a soul to share her thoughts with.

He watched as she cleaned her plate and timidly left the table. Her gait was smooth and she held her chin up confidently, but she was not without unsureness. When she felt him looking on her for too long, she caught his gaze. He held it, inclining his head cordially. Her lips parted and she hurried from the room, her dress clutched awkwardly in her fist. Glorfindel felt something shiver within him.

He wanted to know her thoughts, understand her feelings. He wanted to learn about her world and help her feel comfortable in his. He wanted to pursue her and touch her mortal skin.

He wanted to have her.


End file.
